


We Take the Worlds

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-03
Updated: 2010-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 16:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kal-El is in a cell when he gets a strange message.  Set somewhere around <i>World of New Krypton</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Take the Worlds

_ I take your hand  
And you take my kiss  
And we take the world. _

Walls of light and force, the boundaries of his cell, glimmered around Kal-El. It did no good to assail them, so he crossed his legs and took deep breaths, centering himself as Bruce taught him to do. _Bruce..._ He cut off the thought, the memory of warmth and friendship, with a brutal efficiency born of long experience. Bruce was gone and tomorrow New Krypton and Earth would be at war. All of his passion and energy and hope had done nothing against the fear and hate of Generals Zod and Lane, the madness of their mutual need for annihilation. Both his homes, both his people...he had failed them utterly. Nothing had gone right, every familiar pattern broken, ever since--

He broke off the thought again. Rather than remember things he could not bear to remember, he picked up the little datapad Zod had given him, staring at the quietly glowing screen. It was the transmitter for his confession, Zod had informed him. _Confess your crimes and perhaps I will let your accomplices live._

_Perhaps?_ Clark had sneered, but Zod had only stared at him coldly.

_It is a better chance than you will give them than by remaining stubborn,_ he had said, and left him alone.

Kal held the datapad. _Accomplices._ Nar, with her sudden smile and her faith in him. She deserved--all of them deserved--better than to be executed as traitors at his side. His fingers touched the keyboard.

_I, Kal-El of the House of El, am guilty of--_

The blinking cursor suddenly stopped, then slowly moved backwards, consuming each letter of his confession. As Kal stared, it moved forward again.

_Hello, Kal._

Involuntarily, Clark looked around his empty cell. _Who is this?_ he typed, and watched the words slowly consumed backwards again before he could hit "send."

_B._

Just that, just the one letter. Clark dragged in a sudden, surprised breath. This must be Dick. Or--or someone working for Zod, someone who knew him well enough to know his weak spots, the way to get him vulnerable and-- _Prove it._

_Magpie. Don't blow it for the rest of us._

And suddenly the datapad was blurring in front of Clark's eyes--he scrubbed at them, hard, unwilling to risk missing even one letter, one precious letter, because it _was_ Bruce, only Bruce would remember the first time they had ever worked together, and what Clark had said to him as he left--callous, stupid, meaningless words, it didn't matter, because _Bruce was alive_. He surged to his feet as if he wanted to burst into flight, to cry out his knowledge to the world, he couldn't possibly sit still knowing Bruce was out there somewhere.

Hovering in the middle of his cell, clutching his priceless link in his hands, trembling with joy, he typed back: _It's about time._ Bruce would understand what he meant.

_Got delayed. On my way to you now._

"What?" Clark said out loud without thinking. _There are two bloodthirsty armies and two billion miles of space between us,_ he typed. "You idiot," he muttered.

_I think we can take them. Do you think we can take them?_ And Clark could _hear_ the smug chuckle of his friend's voice, the certainty, could feel it filling him with strength and surety again.

"I love you, you crazy bastard," he whispered to the silent room. _You always think we can take them,_ he typed.

_Yes. I do._

_Then let's do it,_ Clark typed.

_Wait there. I'll be there soon. And then we've got a war to stop,_ came the answer.

The datapad went dead.

Clark forced himself to sit down, forced himself to sit quietly again, as if meditating the way Bruce--_who was alive and on his way here_\--taught him. But his mind was going over strategy and tactics and plans, and below those thoughts it was as if he were singing, his song back in the key it should be, and he was in exactly the right place in all the universe.

The place to which Bruce was coming.


End file.
